The first day of fall was lovely here. It often is. And it never lasts. It is a faux-fall that fools us for awhile, but those of us who have lived here long know that fall weather is still far away. You could usually count on it just at Halloween, but with climate change, nothing is certain. Still, I wanted to get out and enjoy the faux-fall weather, be among the throng in the beautiful autumn light and the thrillingly cool air. I wanted breakfast like a lumberjack, bacon and eggs and potatoes. As my good conservative friend wrote, "Bacon, eggs, and the bomb won WWII."
I had a problem, however. All the dive breakfast joints around me are gone. Covid, first, then rents. I am at the center of concentric circles of wealth that just keep growing outward. I went online and used The Google--"breakfast restaurants near me." I checked menu after menu. Bacon and eggs? Forget about that. Avocado toast, sure. A "breakfast bowl": short grain brown rice, soft scrambled eggs, avocado, chili crunch, sesame seeds, scallions. Chicken and waffles. All good, you know, but too foo-foo for me this morning if you get my drift.
After checking around twenty different menus, I gave up and decided to go to a French bakery that puts eggs and ham and brie on very good croissants. If I could find a place to park, and if I could get a sidewalk table. This town has become like Disney on a Saturday morning, the Carnival Cruise Ship crowd having invaded my sweet little village.
I took the first parking place I saw only a few blocks from the bakery. When I got there, I spied a table outside, but there was also a line. It would be taken, I was sure. When it was my turn, I ordered and took my number and a cup of coffee outside. . . and bam! I had a table. How lovely. The air was sweet and the crowd very visual. I was out and about. Good for me.
Breakfast done, I lingered for a bit with my coffee enjoying the day, then, eventually, I left to stroll the Boulevard with what I hoped was becoming a much less noticeable limp, slow but steady which works well on a sidewalks filled with gawking crowds. I really shouldn't complain. It would be no different living in a lovely place like Danbury, Connecticut, I know. My ex-wife's father lived there for awhile. Quite lovely, but try to eat breakfast downtown on a Saturday. You can't blame people, of course, but still you do.
When I got back to my car, I decided to go to the REI store to see about getting a new pair of running shoes. OCs. That was my last pair and I loved them. When I walked into the store, the first display was their eBike selection. REI's goofy, weird looking bike has often been selected as a "best buy" by reviewers. It is the price point, I believe. I keep thinking to get one, but this one looks so weird. . . I passed on by. Power supplies for campers with solar panels. Wow. Things have changed and prices have dropped. Something to consider. Outdoor clothing. . . Patagonia shirts are more expensive than Buck Mason. Hmm. Socks. Shoes. I look at the Hokas. My running friends swear by them, but I am not running and they are hideous looking. Just ugly. I come to the OCs. They've changed colors. I won't be able to get what I had before. But. . . o.k. . . . these.
Hideous or cool? I decided "cool." Maybe. Whatever. Shoes are so effing expensive now, but when I got to the counter, because I was a member and because I happened to come during a member's sale, they were 20% off. Sweet!
I was feeling pretty groovy when I got to the car. I sat the shoe on the dash and took a pic. Then I sent it to my friend. I don't know why. It was stupid. Really. Who sends a picture of a shoe on a dash to anyone? It was a sad reminder of something I don't know if I am wanting to speak of.
How-Ever, as the kids used to say, I was still on my faux-autumn high, and I headed off to Whole Foods to load up on coconut water. As I've mentioned, I'm fairly hydrophobic, but I will drink coconut water aplenty, so, that is my strategy of the moment. I'm hydrophobic, but I am also oral, so I plan to watch t.v. with a big glass of coconut water instead of whiskey. It's a good idea, a good plan. I'll be as sleek as a sea otter before you know it.
I decided to make a last stop at a tea shop on the far end of the Boulevard. I wanted to get empty tea bags to wrap my loose leaf Milk Oolong tea in for brewing. The store was packed with weekend shoppers browsing shelf after shelf and row after row of spices and teas and tea-related products. The shop was small and surely a Covid spreading center. I found the bags and was out as quick as a sprite.
It was afternoon now, and I was crashing. Still not well, my body ached with pain and fatigue. Once again, I had taken nothing at bedtime and had not slept well at all. When I got home, I unloaded the car, took off my clothes, and fell into bed for a sweet autumn rest.
In my own hometown, it is increasingly irritating to go anywhere in a car. You can't drive, you can't park. Parking, of course, is the worst. And so I avoid going places and stay in the comfort of my own home. Dinners and drinks on the deck, etc. But I know if I didn't have to park, I would be out and about much, much more, and thusly. . . I've been perusing craigslist® once again for Vespas. If I find one I like, I'm pretty sure I'll bite. There is nothing like it in a town like this, just to feel the air on your face, to pull up on the Boulevard or one of a hundred nearby places and not have to worry about parking, just to step off the bike and walk into the cafe. I would not be in my house and people would be lucky enough to see me once again, a handsome man with sunglasses and windswept blonde hair, cool t-shirt and linen shorts. . . etc. Sure, sure, I know. . . kaboom! Have I not learned my lesson? Yes, I did. I learned several. One of them is you probably shouldn't shrink away from living.
There is that thing of which I am not wanting to speak, but it is getting too much of a hold on me. I can feel its fingers on my throat. I need to try to combat it. The breakfast and the shoes were lovely, but they are not enough. There is something I must give another shot.
But that's enough of that. It is another lovely day, and I must get out into it with my new pair of shoes. I need to do some fast limping.
You know. . . the old, slow, Sunday Louisville Roll.